


Accidents and Other Vagaries of Fate

by kyrene



Series: Superman Returns/Batman Begins Crossover Timeline [2]
Category: Batman Begins, Superman Returns
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrene/pseuds/kyrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne settles on pursuit, and Richard has some choices to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents and Other Vagaries of Fate

What could be worse for the child than to see his parents killed in front of him? What sorts of scars would that leave on the still-developing psyche? And how could anything in the world seem safe or certain ever again?

Richard White sat at his desk, toying with a pen, his gaze distant. Through the glass of his office walls he had a clear view of the bullpen, the daily hustle and bustle of the Daily Planet, but he wasn't really seeing it.

Bruce Wayne had created such a name for himself as the ultimate Playboy that most people forgot that he had been right there when his parents had been shot. Just eight years old and his parents had been killed while he watched. But no one remembered.

There had also been a period -- seven years, no short time -- during which Bruce Wayne had vanished and been declared legally dead. Then came his equally mysterious reappearance. Certainly no one recalled that, and few had remarked on it even at the time. Money could buy a lot of things. Even though he did not think that the silence had been deliberately purchased, Richard was certain that it was largely due to Bruce Wayne's fortune that no one had ever really delved into his background; what he had been doing all that time that he was missing, supposedly dead.

Richard had done some digging. He hadn't come up with much. There'd been a huge fuss when Dr. Wayne and his wife had been murdered, and another when their murderer had been assassinated, followed almost immediately by the disappearance of their son and the heir to the Wayne fortune. After that... nothing. Even Bruce Wayne's reappearance had rated only a byline in the Society pages; his first ball in Wayne Manor had gotten a larger spread.

Then there had been the night that Wayne Manor had burned to the ground. That disaster had been eclipsed by the near destruction of Gotham, the chaos in the Narrows, the demolition of the train tracks right in front of Wayne Tower. Understandably, but it still seemed to Richard to be worthy of note. The entire mansion, gone. He'd been there, it had been rebuilt, but it had to have been devastating to Bruce Wayne to lose the home he had grown up in, all the photos and mementos from his parents....

And somehow or other, just a gut feeling, really, Richard had a hard time believing that Bruce had really set fire to the place while drunk like the articles stated. As far as he knew the stories were true, but something inside of him told him that they weren't.

All of this was really just Richard spinning his wheels, finding busy-work, trying to ignore the uncomfortable thoughts and emotions that his encounter with Bruce in the garden had brought back to the forefront of his consciousness.

He had been happy with Lois. At least... he had thought that he had been happy.... There had been the spectre of Superman when they had first started dating, so recently gone missing. As the years had passed, this had faded until he had been almost forgotten. By both of them.

Then Superman had returned. Lois had assured Richard that she was not in love with him, had never been in love with him, but he couldn't help but wonder. She could lie to him while thinking that she was telling the truth, if she was lying to herself. He still wasn't sure.

Of course, this subject had nothing at all to do with the matter of finding himself on his knees in Bruce Wayne's garden with the man's cock sliding over his tongue and down his throat. That was another matter entirely.

Richard loosed a frustrated sound and tossed the pen across his office, aiming for the map of Europe he had taped to the wall. He hit France, then the pen landed on the floor. None of this was getting him anywhere. He was wasting time, spinning his wheels in limbo, terrified of things changing when they already had, inside.

If he could just be honest with himself and with Lois.... But he didn't want to hurt her. And there was a part of him that loved her and always would. He just wasn't sure any longer that it was the greater part of him.

His heart was not a fickle thing, but neither did it obey the directions of his mind. He knew what was good for him. But that might not be what it was that he wanted.

He just wasn't sure anymore. Of anything. His father and Perry had taught him and trained him in how to tackle life and living... but they had never told him how to deal with uncertainty.

This was something he was going to have to figure out for himself.

+++

They were sometimes like two ships that passed in the night. There were days when they didn't see each other at all. In the past, when their relationship had been new, they had made the time for lunch together, but it had been a long time since the last time.

"Richard!"

It was almost a surprise to hear Lois' voice as he stepped off the elevator. Richard watched as she hurried toward him, her dark hair bobbing over her shoulders, her heels rattling across the tile floor.

"Lois," he greeted, smiling, wondering if they would kiss hello, unsurprised when they did not, and trying to figure out when that had changed. Before or after Superman had returned -- he wasn't sure. "What's up?"

"Hold the-- Oh, great!" Lois flapped her arms, scowling prettily as the elevator doors slid closed behind Richard. Leaning around him, she hit the down button.

"Sorry," Richard apologized, running a hand through his hair. He wondered how it was that they had become intimate strangers. Did they even really know each other anymore? "What was it you wanted?"

"I need you to give your uncle a message," she said, her gaze fixed on the numbers above the elevator door, gnawing on a nail as she waited impatiently. Richard resisted the urge to tug her hand away from her mouth, as always. "Clark called my cell phone -- I don't even know how he got the number -- oh, wait, I think I gave it to him -- anyway, for some reason he called me instead of calling the Planet number or something, and he said he's going to be out for a couple of days. Something about an accident."

"He was in an accident?" Richard gasped, his eyes widening, his heart fluttering. It had been hard to pin Clark down directly after his return to Metropolis -- it had almost seemed as though he had been avoiding Richard, though that was surely a thought born of paranoia and nothing more -- but once Richard had gotten him alone for conversation several times he had found him witty, intelligent, and well-read. He'd spent more time talking to Clark, actually, in the past several months, than he had Lois, and he didn't think that he was wrong in labeling the man a friend.

"I don't know." Lois darted into the elevator as the doors slid open and Richard followed her. He'd just ridden up from the lobby, but there was no way he was letting this go without getting more of the story.

"You said an accident," Richard pursued, as Lois hit the button for the ground floor and they began the long ride down. They were alone in the elevator, a rare occurrence; usually it was packed full. "Was it an accident he was in? Or something happened to his mother, maybe?"

"I don't know!" Lois sounded exasperated. "He didn't really say. Or I didn't listen. You know how Clark stutters. I could barely understand him."

"Maybe he was upset," Richard offered, stifling the thought that Clark hadn't stuttered once during most of their recent conversations. It seemed as though Lois was the one who brought that out in him, and it was hardly surprising, considering her noted lack of patience. It was no wonder that she hadn't gotten any details out of Clark; she just didn't care. "I hope that he's all right," Richard fretted, sliding a hand into his pocket and gripping his own cell phone. But he didn't have Clark's number -- an oversight he intended to remedy the very next time he saw the man.

"If he was able to dial his phone and talk to me, I'm sure he'll be fine," Lois said, dismissing his fears with a sweep of her hand.

"But he didn't say where he was?" Richard pursued, even though Lois had as much as told him it was hopeless asking her for details. "Anything at all?"

She shook her head impatiently, blinking. "No. Why would he? He told me to tell Perry and that was all."

Richard fell back against the elevator wall, his brow creased, worrying at his lower lip with a thumb and forefinger. "I hope that he's all right."

Lois gave a loud, gusty sigh, her arms folded, and he could have sworn she was tapping one foot. "Really, Richard, I don't see what the big deal is. Clark is Clark. He'll show up; he always does. He's like... like the bad penny!"

Richard scowled at her, getting a little bit angry for the first time in this awkward conversation. "What the hell do you mean by that?" he demanded sharply.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Lois waved a hand again, then fixed him with a hard look. "God, Richard, what's your problem?"

He just stared at her for a moment. "Clark's a friend, Lois. I'm concerned about him. I think it's only natural."

She grimaced, shaking her head again. "Clark's an adult, Richard. If he says he's fine, he's fine. Now, are you going to give that message to your uncle?"

"Of course," Richard said absently. "So he said that he was fine?"

"I think so. I don't know." The elevator doors pinged open, and Lois was headed out. "It's just Clark, Richard. I don't know why you're making such a big deal about it."

Several people entered the elevator and various buttons were pushed. Richard stayed in the back of the elevator, feeling a little stunned. He hadn't said anything in response to Lois' parting comment, because he couldn't think of anything to say.

Someday... would her words about him be the same? More and more it seemed as though she took Richard for granted -- they took one another for granted, if he was completely honest. And he was slowing coming to realize this.

He felt as though a door had just slammed shut in his face. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, maybe, but it did. And he was worried about Clark, who was his friend.

The doors opened on the lobby leading to the bullpen and Richard automatically got off and walked toward his office. He wondered what sort of accident could keep Clark away from work for a couple of days, and why Clark had called Lois, of all people, to let her know. Was Clark perhaps hoping that she would care? Richard knew that the other man had strong feelings for his fiancee. It didn't bother him. He knew that Clark would never act on them while Richard and Lois were together; Clark had small town ethics and was just naturally honorable like that.

But seeking a response was something else entirely, almost innocent and completely natural. Richard could find no fault in it, and it made him hurt that Lois had not responded at all. He wondered if it had hurt Clark even more.

He wondered if he would be able to deal with her the same way now. It might seem a little thing to anyone else, but to Richard it had clarified his feelings and laid bare the heart of his emotions.

He loved Lois. He always would. But he was becoming more and more certain that he was falling out of love with her. There were, after all, many different ways of loving someone.

He didn't want to hurt her. But if there was nothing left, he couldn't pretend. That would hurt her more in the long run.

It was almost funny. They had already broken up in his mind, and Lois didn't even know.

Richard grimaced, blinking back a sudden and completely unexpected assault of tears as he slammed into his office. His eyes were hot and damp and he stood a moment, furious at himself, at the world, at the way things were. He fairly vibrated for a moment with the intensity of his emotion, his hands clenched so hard that his nails left grooves in his palms.

And then, abruptly, it all melted away, leaving him feeling empty and cold. And he was still worried about Clark.

"Hm. Seems I may have chosen an inopportune time to visit."

Richard stepped back instinctively, hitting the door, his eyes widening. Through the salt-sting of tears, he could see Bruce Wayne rising from his own chair, his mouth curved in that famous, familiar indolent smirk, though his gaze was dark and inquisitive.

"No, that's all right," he mumbled, barely aware of what he was saying. He turned his face away as Bruce Wayne ambled around his desk, hands in his pockets, trusting to the billionaire's sense of tact as he reached up a little less than surreptitiously to wipe the faint wetness away. He was done with that; Bruce Wayne's unexpected appearance, as though Richard's thoughts from earlier had somehow summoned the man himself, had distracted him. And besides, there was no sense simmering in self-pity. Richard had always preferred to take action. He just wasn't sure what action to take.

Bruce Wayne came to rest, leaning against the front side of Richard's desk, his hands still in his pockets, that quirk still on his lips. He was dressed in a subdued manner, a dark turtleneck under a neat black jacket, perfect slacks, and a silver watch; each of which, Richard was sure, was worth much more than a month of his own salary. Richard was by most standards to be considered well off -- he had his own private plane and a gorgeous home on the river -- but he had nothing to compare to Bruce Wayne. Not that he felt any manner of competition.

"Is there... is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?" Richard asked, turning his attention back to his unexpected guest.

"Please, call me Bruce." The man lounged back against the desk, his dark eyes steady on Richard's face. Richard fought a wash of heat which nonetheless made its way into his cheeks. "We may not be on intimate terms, but we are contemporaries."

Richard couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he said nothing. Instead, he crossed to where his pen still lay on the floor, bending to pick it up, then standing there, uselessly holding it. "All right," he said inanely, then became still again.

"I hope you don't mind me barging into your office," Bruce continued, not sounding at all apologetic despite the words themselves. He straightened, his hands still in his pockets, a smile on his mouth that did not quite reach his eyes. "But I'm curious. You've been doing quite a bit of snooping into my background lately, and I'm wondering why."

"I've--" Richard's mouth went dry, and he froze in place. Suddenly he felt as though he was in the presence of a dangerous man. He wasn't sure where this thought came from, but he was certain of it. Bruce stood before him, well groomed, his dark hair slicked back, his expression pleasant, his posture relaxed. Richard's heart beat a violent tattoo against his ribcage and his breath came fast.

"You're the editor of the international bureau for the Daily Planet," Bruce continued smoothly, one brow now raised. "I know that Wayne Enterprises has holdings in Europe and Asia, but we're based in America. In Gotham. So I'm wondering what story you think you might be chasing."

"No, no story!" Richard hurried to correct, shaking his head vehemently. "I wasn't -- I wasn't researching Wayne Enterprises."

"Then...?"

Richard flushed hotly, knowing that he had as much as admitted that it was Bruce Wayne himself that he had been checking out. He turned his face away again, looking out the window, trying to order his thoughts, feeling as though his entire world had been turned on its head in a matter of an hour. This was not his life....

"I--" he began, then his breath caught in his throat as he turned back to his guest and discovered that Bruce had moved into his circle of personal space, standing directly before him, all but looming. His eyes were so bright, so deep, so mesmerizing. "I wasn't...."

Then Bruce Wayne chuckled, reaching and taking the pen that Richard had forgotten he was holding. His fingers were warm where they brushed Richard's. "No need to panic, Mr. White," he drawled, and for a wonder the tone of his voice was actually reassuring.

"Call me Richard." He wasn't sure how the words made it past his lips, his tongue feeling numb in his mouth. It might have been the intensity of those eyes that bored into his, or maybe it was the delicate touch of fingertips to his jawline. He hadn't been expecting the physical contact, but even that was nothing to the force that he sensed behind Bruce Wayne's gaze.

"Richard." It was a low rumble, like the purr of a great cat, a feral predator. Richard's skin shivered, and he felt a heat kindle in his chest... and points lower. Bruce's palm cupped the angle of his jaw, and Richard held himself perfectly still, afraid to move, unable to react. "It's all right, you know. There's nothing you can find out about me that I don't want you to know."

Richard's pride as a reporter stung a little at this sally, but he had to admit that it was probably true. He wondered, really wondered what Bruce Wayne had done, where he had been, those seven years. Between leaving Princeton and returning to reclaim Wayne Enterprises... there was a huge mystery. It was one that Richard wasn't sure he could solve; one he wasn't sure he dared to try solving; one he didn't think he wanted to solve.

"I'm not sure why I was snooping around," he husked, meeting Bruce's eyes steadily, ignoring the hand still touching his face and the warmth that it was sending through him. "I was just trying to figure you out, I think. But I'm missing too many of the puzzle pieces, so you'll have to remain an enigma."

There was something of startlement in Bruce's eyes, which then melted into what could be amusement, respect, or a combination of both. "I think that's for the best," he said, and it didn't sound condescending at all. His hand was still pressed to the side of Richard's face, fingers over his warm cheek. "Where we're both concerned. Are you all right with that?"

"Surprisingly so," Richard assured him, remaining still, his gaze never faltering. Things were more amiable between them now, but he was certain that Bruce Wayne was dangerous, and he did not intend to ever forget this.

"Good." A slow smile widened those cupid-bow lips, and Richard flushed more darkly, abruptly remembering that quick, violent kiss in the garden. Suddenly Bruce's hand was gone, and he stepped over to Richard's desk, setting the pen on its surface. "I'll admit, though. I did have another purpose for visiting."

"You did?" Richard was a little breathless, felt a little chilled with the absence of Bruce's warmth, his touch.

"Yes." Bruce glanced over his broad shoulder, smiling easily, as though this entire conversation was the most natural thing in the world. "I wanted to ask you to lunch."

Richard blinked. Strangely, it was Clark's face that flashed before his mind's eye, not Lois. Then everything rushed back to him; the conversation with his fiancee in the elevator, his worry over Clark, his confusion and turmoil....

"But I can see that this isn't a good time," Bruce continued smoothly, the gentle expression on his face saying to Richard that he did indeed understand. "Perhaps you could offer me a raincheck?"

Richard considered it for a long moment. There were things he was going to have to resolve in his personal life, and soon. He and Lois were going to have to have a long, painful talk, and decide where they were going, if anywhere. He had to make sure that Clark was all right. There was so much and he was feeling overwhelmed. And yet... Bruce's offer was a tempting one.

"The next time you're in Metropolis," he said slowly, almost but not quite reluctantly, "If you want to stop by my office again...."

Bruce's smile was warm and, Richard was fairly sure that it was genuine. "I'll make it a point to do so."

Richard knew that he was letting himself in for trouble. Knew it with a complete and utter sense of assurance.

And it was nice to be sure of one thing.

"Until next time, then," Bruce Wayne purred, and with a last heavy-lidded glance he left Richard's office.

Richard drew a deep, shuddering breath, then scrubbed his face with both hands, his cheek still tingling where Bruce's fingers had rested.

When exactly had he lost control over his life?

And what was he going to do next?


End file.
